


Collecting Strays

by hannibalsketches



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: AU, Fluff and Angst, Frederick and Will are Strangers, M/M, Mild Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-13
Updated: 2014-10-13
Packaged: 2018-02-20 23:46:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2447504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hannibalsketches/pseuds/hannibalsketches
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Will Graham moved out of Wolf Trap to get away from civilization, but when Winston goes on his own little adventure, it leads Will on a path full of attractive neighbors, plenty of bad memories, and a habit he just can't seem to break.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Collecting Strays

**Author's Note:**

> As always, for Brittany. I'm pretty sure I'd implode if I kept all these AUs inside.

The morning sun peeks over the horizon on a damp November morning, providing pleasant warmth to the cold nip in the air. Even though it was Florida, every now and again a chill would settle down. This one was due to last all week, but Will Graham couldn't complain; it was shorts weather compared to Virginia. 

He steps outside his lakefront home, taking in the way the water,a direct runoff from a nearby ocean, shimmers under the pinks and purples of the sky. He loved the way it took the edge off, shedding the mental pounds he gained while asleep. Will retreats, deciding to take the dogs out for a well deserved walk in the nearby woods. 

The 'edge' Will had gained was more of a wound, deep and slow to heal. He had caught the Chesapeake Ripper, but narrowly. Many friends had died in the process, and Will still carried the grief like a badge, proving that no matter how much Hannibal Lecter had digged around in his brain, he was still human. After the trial, he high-tailed it south, with the hope that being closer to home would rid him of his demons. 

It certainly seemed to be working, he realizes, as his pets make a mad dash for the forest, eager to stretch out their paws and explore. He felt happy in this place, like he was meant to be here, after the road of unforgiving hurt. He absentmindedly traces his abdomen scar, the ticket to his freedom, before picking up a stick and throwing it for the dogs to chase after. Will sits on a fluffy patch of grass, scratching the ears of his true best friend, Winston. He loved the others too, but this pup had single handedly saved his life, attacking Hannibal while Will writhed on the floor, soaked in blood. 

He rakes a hand down Winston's back stopping at his tail, or lack thereof. Hannibal had taken that too, but it did little good to stop the attack; the officials told Will it was the lack of blood that slowed Hannibal down in the end, too many dog bites to blame. 

A loud whine draws Will from his train of thought, sounding a bit far off from where he's sitting. He counts his pack. 6. Another whine. Buster was missing.

Will jumps into action, ordering the others to stay put before checking it out. His strides are full of purpose, mind worrying with what might have happened. What he finds nearly sends him into a fit of laughter. Buster, with all his toughness, being cornered by a tabby cat a little bit bigger than Will's shoe. His dog is terrified, shaking and whimpering like a puppy. Will easily shoos off the kitten, picking his pooch up with a laugh. 

He makes his way back to the clearing, where the rest of the Graham Clan is waiting. They greet Buster with happy yips and licks to the face, eager to have their brother back. Just as Will is ready to head home, he notices he still has six dogs.

"Winston! Come on boy, we're heading home!" 

There isn't a usual scurry of footsteps afterwards, which worries him. He looks to the others, who cock their heads and wag their tails in confusion. Will decides to head back home anyways; Winston would often pick up a scent and investigate for a while, but he'd always find his way back. 

When they arrive back to the house, Will leaves the door open, incase a hungry Winston wanted back in.

Minutes turn into hours; Will showers, eats, even watches a few episodes of Breaking Bad, all while taking expectant glances out of the door. Night encases him quickly, and he goes back outside.

"Winston!!" He nearly screams the dogs name, heart racing at the worry filling his mind. Will grabs the pups favorite treats, giving the bag a few experimental shakes, half expecting him to pop out from around the house. He doesn't.

It's too dark outside to investigate. All Will can do is hope that if Winston is found, the person will have the decency to phone him. He has other thoughts, but they're too dark to acknowledge. Winston is a smart canine, he can fend for himself until he's found.

That night is the first time Will doesn't sleep since Hannibal gutted him. 

-

The following morning, after a stale breakfast of toast and coffee, Will decides to devote the first half of his day to finding his sorely missed pup. He begins by trailing the woods, following any dog-sized footprints and hoping for the best. The overnight frost crunching under his feet eventually melts into a muddy mess, the dawn slips from his fingers as fast as it came-- still with no sign of Winston. When he's positive the woods have been searched, he searches again, calling out until his voice is rough and hoarse. He goes through them at least five times, before deciding, as a last resort, to follow the road, searching for any trace of what might be left. 

It's lunchtime when he gives up the search, deciding to instead grab a sandwich and drive around the nearby area. 

When Will reenters his house, the bright flash and ring of his landline greets him. It's a number he doesn't recognize.

"Hello?"

**Hello? Is this Will Graham?**

The person on the other end of the line is male, with a deep, oddly weighted voice, tinged with the remnants of a childhood lisp.

"Yes."

**Oh thank god...I have your dog, Winston? He showed up on my porch this morning, curled up and asleep. I fed him, and noticed the tags. Would you like to come get him?**

Will nearly collapses with sheer relief.

"Oh my God...thank you for calling. Yes, I'll come get him. What's your address?"

The man relays his information, Will jots it down. He's out the door without a minute to spare.

-

 

The address isn't very far away. Will arrives only ten minutes after leaving. The front door opens just as he's getting out of his truck. He doesn't have a second to step before he's pummeled by a big ball of honey fur.

"Winston! Hey boy!" 

He lets him muzzle into his neck, taking a moment to hug the pooch he honestly thought he'd never see again. There's a deep, genuine laugh from the direction of the house. Will looks up, stricken with the presence of Winston's saviour. He's short, but makes up for it with a thick, messy mop of raven hair. His nose is prominent without being too large, and his eyes scratch and claw their way into Will's soul. His outfit should be ridiculous, an oversized cable knit, with baggy pants, but Will decides it suits him, making him tinier than humanly possible.

The stranger offers a strong hand, which Will willing takes. Will towers over him an easy eight inches, yet he shrinks under the intense gaze, enhanced by a remarkable smile. Their hands shake a bit.

"Frederick Chilton. I'm glad to have him back to you, Mr. Graham."

"Call me Will. Thank you. I don't know how I could repay you."

"Repayment isn't necessary. I'm just glad he didn't see any harm..."

A suffocating silence rings in the air, Will's vision darts between Winston and Frederick. He wasn't much good at small talk, especially with attractive next door neighbors. Luckily, Frederick cuts it off.

"You live near here?" 

Will nods, gulping down the lump that was forming in his throat. 

"Just up the road." 

"The one by the river?" Frederick's enthusiasm is strange, the man's cheeks tinge peek with embarrassment.

"Yeah, you know it?"

"I almost bought it. Then I found this place." 

Will almost snorts at the notion. This house was beautiful, stone walls on either side, and huge windows overlooking the backyard. With the fall leaves peppering the ground, it was a breathtaking sight. 

"Hey, get back here!" 

Will snaps out of his daydream long enough to witness Winston making a break for it, back into Frederick's house, as if he forgot something. He's being chased by the smaller man. Will strides behind them.

The outside of the home does no justice to the interior. It reminded Will of the log cabins he always saw on tv. Winston is amongst the middle of it all, wrestling with a sock tied in various knots. He can't help but laugh. Frederick is quick to join. 

"I hope you don't mind, Will. I made him a toy using an old sock..."

"Nah, he seems to like it. Come on, you big doofus, let's go home. Everyone's going nuts."

He glances at Frederick in time to see disappointment flit across his features. It's replaced by a forced smile that doesn't quite meet his eyes. 

"You have a family?" 

"Of sorts. Six more dogs with this one." 

Will watches the relief wash over Frederick. His face grows hot at the gesture. He thought I was taken. 

He moves to the door, Winston in tow. The dog obediently runs to the truck, hopping in through the still open driver's door. Will looks around the house, at Frederick, then takes a deep, shaky breath. He owed Frederick. 

"Wanna go get coffee or something tomorrow? I still feel like I owe you something." 

The smile he draws from Frederick is worth the nervousness. 

"Sure. Is seven okay?"

"Seven's great." Will mentally kicks himself for his obvious eagerness. He's acting like an outright idiot.  
They depart with light grins, still nervous at the seams, but otherwise hopeful. Will climbs back into his truck, waving goodbye as he's pulling out of the drive. 

He's really looking forward to tomorrow.

~  
Frederick's routine has become a moral code of sorts. Between his job as a civil court lawyer and sleep, he doesn't have the time or want for anything out of the ordinary. That was before the honey haired mutt had decided to take a visit. While the dog was there, it practically ransacked the strict time frames Frederick fought hard to uphold, demanding food that he didn't have, and attention he didn't have the time to give. Still, he catered to its wants, fixing the pooch some of his leftover mac and cheese, even making it a toy to occupy itself with. Eventually he had to cave on the attention, the dog was a persistent damn stray. That's how he'd found the tags. Some sleep and a phone call later, he had one Will Graham on his doorstep, which was way off his normal course of things. When asked to join the handsome man for coffee, he found himself answering. As the two left, Frederick got back into his normal routine, even if he was terribly off track. 

Now, as bedtime nears, Frederick has no problems succumbing to his bodies' fatigue, peeling off his reading glasses before setting down the Stephen King novel he had been enthralled in. The clock reads 1:00 AM, its way past his normal curfew.

His dream is rather pleasant, for once; a colorful forest with a clear brook winding to the north. There's a man in the distance, fishing in the river with a smile on his lips. He looks up at Frederick, who realizes with a shock its Will, damp with sweat and happier than he ever thought possible. He's beckoned over, so Frederick goes, entranced, yet a little confused as to why his newly acquainted neighbor would be in his dreams. There's a fleeting moment of blissful silence with Frederick looking on from above before Will speaks ever so slightly. 

"You have to let me teach you, Frederick."

"I'd like that."

-

A dull thud, coming from reality, jolts Frederick awake. He's sweated through his shirt, and every hair on his body is on end. After grabbing the aluminum baseball bat from under his bed, he makes his descent downstairs, ready to pounce if needed be. 

What he finds is almost an exact replay of the night before; another stray had found its way on his porch, he can see its fuzzy shape through the glazed window. With a huff, Frederick puts the bat down, hoping it isn't Winston again. He opens the door, finding with a shock that he wasn't too far off from the truth.

"Will! Are you alright?"

He doesn't receive an answer, only the brisk, guttural howl of the wind outside. The air is freezing, colder than he ever remembered it being in Florida before, and Will is in nothing but the basics: boxer shorts and a thin cotton undershirt. Without another thought Frederick bends down, nudging the sleeping man. When he gets no rise out of Will, he jumps into action, his years as a psychiatric doctor giving him the know how. 

Frederick first forces Will out of the fetal position he's curved into, willing his eyes to look away as the white shirt rides up his stomach, exposing a nasty puckered scar. 

The rest is alarmingly easy. Even with a stitch constantly limiting his movements, Frederick's easily capable of lifting Will and transporting him to the living room couch. He throws three thick blankets over the man, and nestles into the nearby armchair, falling asleep as he sees the curious man do the same.

-

It's not a calamity that awakens the two, its the noticeable shift in the air, the way the tension ignites the carpet under their toes. Frederick gets up first-- he's always had a sixth sense about these things since his accident. He doesn't move, just blindly stares at the digital clock on the wall. 4 AM. 

As the mass of blankets move, Frederick freezes in fear of Will's state. Hopefully he'd remember the house, but they have only known each other for one day. 

As Will's eyes peel open, peering out from under the mound of covers, it seems a bit silly to think he'd react harshly. 

"W-where am I?" 

"My house." 

Will sits up, letting his eyes adjust before glancing at Frederick. 

"Frederick? H-how did I end up here?"

Frederick sighs long and low, trying to keep his worry at bay. He barely knew the man, why was he worried?? 

"I found you on my porch. At first I thought you were Winston..." 

There's a pregnant silence that follows after, thickening the air with tenseness. Suddenly, Will springs to his feet.

"Thanks for bringing me in, but I need to head home." 

"What, by foot? You nearly froze to death!"

The sudden rise in his voice is enough to settle Will back down onto the couch, but it didn't take a genius to see he was antsy. 

"I'm here to listen, if you're willing to talk. How long has this been going on?"

Will cringes at the sudden familiarity of the conversation. "Too long to tell."

"Will, there's no need to withhold information. I'm a psychiatrist." 

He visibly tenses at the title. 

" I tend to have bad experiences with those. " 

"Well," says Frederick, walking to the liquor cabinet and pulling out some whiskey. "I tend to have bad experiences with patients. Drink?"

"Please."

Will stands again, moving over and downing an entire glass in one go. Fuzzy memories from his alcoholic past flash in his brain, but he puts them to rest. For whatever reason, he felt safe with Frederick.  

Another silence follows as the two drink two glasses each, and nurse their third. Its different now, a lot warmer and bearable. There's color on Frederick's cheeks. And its extremely distracting. 

"So tell me," Will begins, finding his tongue loosens after the booze, "What kind of bad experiences have you had with your patients?"

In one swift motion, Frederick lifts up his shirt, exposing a mangled scar traveling vertically up his torso. Will involuntarily flinches.

"Abel Gideon. Severe antisocial personality disorder. Killed his wife, then came after me. I only have one kidney now, and a good chunk of my digestive tract is MIA. What kind of bad experiences have you had with psychiatrists?" 

Will, feeling a surge of courage from Fredericks shameless display, pulls his own shirt up, showing the ugly mark he attained.

"Ever heard of Hannibal Lecter?"

-

They stay like that majority of the night. After telling the horrific truth of Hannibal's capture, things had turned from serious to rather ridiculous. 

"I'm telling you, BBQ sauce is good on everything." 

Will openly snorts at the ridiculous phrase. His buzz was long gone, replaced by the warm, tingling feeling Frederick gave him every time he laughed or made eye contact. He notices the clock while contemplating his rebuttal. 

"Shit, its nearly three! I need to get back to the dogs, they're probably losing their minds!" 

He doesn't get far to the door before a tiny man blocks it. 

"Nuh uh, you're not going home tonight, Will. I need to make sure you won't sleepwalk again.  If it makes you feel any better, we leave them a message." 

Although the idea is tempting, he knows Frederick's joking. Before he can think another thought, he's being pummeled by blankets and pillows too soft to be real. 

"Sleep. Please." 

Will quips an odd stare, and receives one back. True, he had spent the last two hours finding out more information about Frederick, but still had just met the man. What was he getting at, being nice and understanding? 

He doesn't even notice Frederick getting closer, until there's a well calloused hand gripping his shoulder.

"I know you're not used to kindness Will, but please. I care about your safety. ”

He can only nod in return, looking sternly at the floor as Frederick ascends the stairs to his room. Will gets as comfortable as possible, but he won't sleep. Too much on the mind. He really couldn't figure it out. After months and months of extensive detachment from all civilization whatsoever, he subconsciously leads himself to Frederick's door? 

_You try to reach something when you're like this, Will. Somewhere you want to go, or somewhere you're needed._

Alana's voice is alarming to him, clear as day, nearly right there. If only. She was lost long ago, turned bitter by paralysis. Still, he wills himself to listen to her wisdom. Perhaps he was a kindred spirit, someone to share the weight with. Maybe his inner soul ached for the contact once again. He couldn't recall any nightmare before hand, which was good. 

Maybe Frederick needed him too.

At the thought, Will rises, going on pure instinct up the stairs and to Frederick's door. 

-

Upon returning to his room, Frederick collapses on his duvets with a huff. It had been nearly three years since he had done anything with his long forgotten profession, and even longer since he had someone to really talk to. It seemed Will was his exception for literally everything. Not that he was complaining. The man was more like him than he ever thought, and he was right below, sleeping. 

He groans, steering his thoughts elsewhere. It was way too soon, and Will was complicated, just like him. 

He's slowly drifting off to glimpses of soft curls and toothy smirks when a sharp, rapid knock at the door jolts him awake. He involuntarily yelps, and that's good enough reason for the person to enter. 

Will stands, shifting from foot to foot. Frederick can see the tense arch of his shoulders, feel the hitch in his breath as their eyes meet. Frederick rises slowly, honestly questioning if he was dreaming or not. 

Slowly, Will trudges closer, and there's something more in his eyes, something Frederick knows. Loneliness. He lets Will sit beside him, lets the man cover his warm hands with frigid ones, because he knows how it is. Human contact is a luxury people like them can't afford.

They stare at one another, and suddenly, the decision is clear, they know where to go with this. 

"I need you. ” Will whispers, his eyes heavy, and his head already dipping. 

"I know." 

When their lips touch, all air escapes Frederick's lungs. He's cautious, but extremely patient as the kiss slowly turns into something more. He groans as Will pushes closer, gripping Frederick's head so he can deepen the act. Cold hands warm against his sides. 

He feels a bit lightheaded as their tongues meet. This was all so sudden, so impossibly absurd that he didn't dare question it. Instead, he raises a calloused palm to this breathtaking man's jaw, loving the way the scruff scratched his knuckles. His other hand reaches between them, roughly shoving down his well tented boxers. He gasps loudly, pulling from the kiss with a wet pop.

Its clear that Will wanted this to last as long as possible; he lays Frederick down gently, nipping wonderful patterns around the stomach scar. Will has him writhing and panting, at the mercy of his expert tongue, now licking stripes down his pelvis. Frederick yells as his erection is engulfed in a sweet, hot cavern. Will, the minx, bats his eyelashes innocently, closing his eyes as he works Frederick's cock with a mind blowing mix of lapping and suction. 

Frederick refuses to look anywhere that isn't Will's beautiful complicated face, and it's by doing that that he sees it. A single tear trailing down those coral cheeks.

Will was crying.

Immediately, he grips Will's shoulders, pulling him away. As soon as he's raised up, he cracks. Will collapses into Frederick, sobbing uncontrollably. For once, he was getting exactly what he wanted, and he didn't know what to do with it. Being alone for so long left him afraid, and wanting more than he knew how to provide. Frederick knew the feeling, and openly weeps, pulling Will so their brows are pressed together.

"You okay?" 

"Yeah, I-I..." Will furiously rubs his eyes. Frederick catches his wrists.

"Will. Don't overthink it. Just feel. You don't have to do anything. This is about you. What do you want?"

At his words, Will visibly relaxes, but keeps the stutter, too shy to voice his desires with confidence.

"C-could you... touch me?"

Frederick's never smiled so hard in his life.  
Carefully, he helps Will out of his shorts, marveling at beauty of his cock, shimmering with anticipation, and a lovely flushed red. He rubs the very top over his rough palm, loving the small mewl of encouragement he receives. 

Their foreheads are still pressed together, and every erratic breath Will makes puffs over his skin. It doesn't take much to unwind Will completely, he's soon spilling into Frederick's palm, and screaming to the heavens. Just the show itself, the scorching heat they were emanating, and the gorgeous way his name spilled from those rosy cracked lips is enough to push him over. 

They fall together on the bed, and for once, both have a strange sense of peace. 

"I'm glad you found my dog." Will murmurs, already near the comfortable world of dreamless slumber. 

Frederick laughs, because he never thought he'd be the sort to collect strays.

**Author's Note:**

> Theres a neat playlist for this story [here](http://m.8tracks.com/hannibalsketches/collecting-strays).


End file.
